


Listen to the Wind Blow (Down Comes the Night)

by livia_1291



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Folklore, Gen, Magic, Shadow Weaver Sucks, Shadow Weaver’s A+ Parenting, Swearing/strong language warning, Western AU, a gift for a lovely friend, adora's a drifter, and my own life, but don’t ask me what they are I don’t know, catra's a low-level outlaw, catradora, glimmer and bow deserve a lot, inspired by LOTS of fleetwood mac, inspired loosely by the crimson waste arc, la lechuza - Freeform, melog is sort of a horse, mentions of abuse, supernatural stuff, tejano folklore, we write what we know sue me, whose heart isn't really in it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livia_1291/pseuds/livia_1291
Summary: “Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light.”Adora’s stay in the little oasis of Bright Moon wassupposedto be a quiet few months for her to rest and recharge. It wassupposedto be a serene, unassuming town where no trouble would find her. But fate has other plans for Adora in the form of a morally grey outlaw who might also be her old friend, and a pressing mystery that demands to be solved.A Catradora western AU inspired by Fleetwood Mac, old westerns, and Tejano folklore.
Relationships: Adora & Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 66





	1. River Runs Dry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angeliq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeliq/gifts).



_The sun was rising pink and orange over the distant mountains when Catra woke alone in the bed she shared with Adora. In the rickety bunks next to her, Lonnie was snoring like a freight train, and Rogelio and Kyle had shoved their thin pillows over their ears in an attempt to drown out the persistent sound._

_“Adora?” She whispered into the golden morning, wondering through her sleepy haze if her best friend was playing some sort of trick on her._

_No response. A quick brush of her fingertips across threadbare sheets told her that Adora had been gone for more than a minute or two, longer than it would take to go to the bathroom or get water. They were cold, almost as if nobody had even been there in the first place. The only indication that the bed had been occupied by someone other than Catra was a dent on the spare pillow, and creases in the sheets where another body had lain. A glance under the bed revealed only one battered suitcase instead of two, and Adora’s boots were gone from where she had left them at the foot of their bed the night before._

_Catra moved silently through the halls of the dusty orphanage, avoiding the spots on the worn wooden floor that she knew would creak if she stepped on them. Madam Weaver would have a hell of a beating for her if she was caught out of bed this early._

_When she rounded the corner to the front room, she immediately jumped back, pressing herself flush against the wall and clamping her own hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. Madam Weaver was already awake, sitting on the swaybacked floral couch and nursing what Catra knew to be a cup of hair-raisingly strong moonshine. She looked even more haggard and worn than usual, and there was a crease between her brows that remained even after she gulped down the last of the alcohol and rose to put the empty glass in the sink for someone else to clean._

_Out the window, a trail of red dust was rising on the horizon. With a horrible lurch in her stomach, Catra peeled herself off the wall and crept back upstairs. The door to the bunkroom shut a little too loudly, earning groans of protest from Rogelio and Lonnie, but Catra couldn’t bring herself to care. It didn’t matter._

_Adora was long gone, and she wasn’t coming back._

-

“One more, Glimmer!” 

Glimmer shot her friend a look from across the bar at the jovial request, but poured another glass of ice cold water anyway, placing it in front of her with a smirk.

“Wow, Adora,” she teased as the blond drained it in two sloppy gulps and dropped the glass back onto the bar with a _thunk_ , “don’t go too crazy. What, are you celebrating something?”

Adora tried to smother her grimace by wiping her mouth on her long red-and-white checked sleeve, before breaking into a wide grin.

“No, nothing in particular,” she raised both hands in mock defense when Glimmer arched a skeptical brow at her, “What, is it a crime to want to stay hydrated in this heat?”

The Elberon Tavern in Bright Moon was as good of a watering hole as any in the deserts of the southwest. It was the central meeting spot for the townspeople; a place to socialize, to enjoy life, and to rest after long days of work. It was also where Adora found herself at noon exactly ten years after she left Madam Weaver’s orphanage on the back of her older sister Mara’s pretty palomino horse. 

_There’s not very much to celebrate,_ she thought, taking the next glass of water Glimmer passed her with a grateful smile. 

Life hadn’t been much since Mara had died. _Since Mara was murdered_ , she corrected herself, taking another swig of water to wash the bitterness of that thought from her tongue. Adora made her living floating from place to place, taking up odd jobs until she had enough money to tack up Swift Wind and move on to the next town. It wasn’t a miserable existence by any means (she had had far worse), but it was certainly a lonely one. Every time she felt as though she had finally found a place for herself, it was time to saddle up and leave. 

Bright Moon was strange, even by Adora’s admittedly low standards. Mara had lived there for a while before she had gone to get Adora, so when Adora arrived years after her departure and introduced herself with Mara’s last name, she was welcomed with open arms, and treated like family. Bow’s dads often asked her over for dinner, and Glimmer’s mother taught her how to style her hair in something other than the same old ponytail every day (not that she ever took her advice to braid it or tie it into a bun.) The eccentric Madam Razz offered her Mara’s old shack to live in, and paid her well for fixing the fences, tending the cows, and foraging for wild onions by the spring so that they could make soup.

Then there were Glimmer and Bow themselves. She ached to think about leaving them behind when she had made enough money working for Madam Razz. They were the first real friends she had had since...

The saloon doors swung open, jolting Adora from her silent reverie. In tripped a young girl with pink hair and iridescent wings who Adora recognized from her days helping Bow’s dads out at their library. _What was her name? Felicia? Flutterby?_

“Help!” the girl wheezed, and immediately doubled over with exertion, heaving and spluttering as she clutched at her stained apron. “Someone, please!’

“Woah, woah,” Glimmer soothed, hurrying from behind the counter to guide the girl to sit in an empty seat. “Bow, get her some water!”

“On it!” Bow jumped up from where he had been helping someone tune their guitar, and immediately set about wiping out the dusty inside of a glass and filling it from the iced pitcher behind the bar.

“There’s someone outside, they’re demanding money, I don’t know what to do!” She whimpered, still trembling with the full force of her panic. Her hand shook as she reached for the cup of water that Bow offered her, and she brought it to her chapped lips, taking the smallest of sips and coughing as she swallowed. “I don’t-”

Before she could finish, Adora was on her feet, mouth set in a grim line as she patted the young girl’s shoulder in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. _Flutterina. That was her name._

“Don’t you worry,” she murmured, reaching for the hat she had left sitting on the table with her unfinished drink. “I’ll take care of this.”

-

The stranger was seated on the back of a pitch black horse that tossed and pranced when Adora approached, hand resting on the pearl handle of her pistol that had been a birthday gift from Glimmer’s mom, Angella. Their face was obscured by a red bandana tied across their nose and mouth, and by the brim of a hat pulled low over their brow. Only their eyes, cat-like and mismatched, were visible in the shadows. Adora stopped ten paces from them, squaring her shoulders and holding firm. Deep breaths. She could deal with this.

“Who are you, stranger?” She called, drawing her pistol from the leather holster at her hip, but keeping it dangling by her side. She wasn’t going to shoot; not unless she absolutely had to. Injuring (or worse, killing) were always last resorts for Adora. “And what do you want in Bright Moon?”

At that, the stranger tossed their head back and laughed to the sun beating cruelly down on them from above. It was a high, husky sound, and it stirred something in Adora’s chest, something that she had reluctantly left behind in a decrepit orphanage so many years ago. _No. There’s no way..._

Catra dismounted from the back of her horse with practiced ease, landing gracefully on the sun-baked earth and lowering her bandana from her nose and mouth with one deft tug. 

“Hey Adora.” 

Pearly teeth were bared in a too-sharp grin, and one clawed hand was resting on the handle of a pistol that hung in a worn holster at the curve of her hip. On the other hip, a whip hung, curled like a striking snake. She looked older, her long, wild hair bound back with a straining ribbon, and her clothes faded and worn from the sun and dirt. Adora could see some scars that she was sure had not been there when they had parted so long ago. But the way Catra held herself, with the confidence of some sort of goddess of the lawless wild, was unchanged.

Adora’s whole mouth felt like she had just eaten a mouthful of dust, gritty and dry and caustically hot.

“Catra,” she managed, fingers tightening around her gun. Oh, this was _so_ many levels of bad. Catra was here. Catra, who Adora had been forced to leave sleeping alone in a bunk exactly a decade ago. Catra, who was immune to Adora’s bravado and reputation, and she knew that there was no way Adora would fire. The pistol might as well have been a harmless stick for all the good it was doing her.

Catra’s sharp-toothed grin was unwavering as she sauntered over to Adora, who raised her gun instantly, arms extended in front of her and eyes wide with disgust - at herself, for threatening her, or at Catra, for showing up like this, she wasn’t sure. Her old friend gazed fearlessly down the barrel, clicking her tongue and reaching out to slice a worn wanted poster off of the wooden siding of the saloon with one sharp claw. She took her time examining it, lips curled into a sneer, then made a show of folding it and tucking it away in a leather pouch hanging from her belt.

“Oh Adora. This is how you greet me after ten years?” She cooed, though there was no warmth in her voice. “How predictable can you be? First you don’t even bother saying goodbye, and then…” Her steel-toed boots kicked up soft clouds of dust as she prowled over to Adora, resting a hand on her wrist and pushing, forcing her to lower the gun. Adora didn’t resist the pressure of sharp claws pricking at thin skin, too stunned to react properly. “...you think about killing me?”

Adora swallowed, holstering her gun when she realized that Catra had not once reached for hers. “I wasn’t going to-”

“ _Hah!_ And why should I trust anything _you_ say?” Catra’s ears were pinned flush against her hair, tail lashing behind her in agitation. There was defiance flashing like a summer storm in her multicolored eyes, and…was that _hurt_ hiding in the edges of her voice?

“Catra, I-” She began, but Catra was clearly not in the business of listening right now, her cool facade beginning to crack like the parched earth beneath their feet as she paced in front of Adora, throwing her half-gloved hands up.

“You know how long I was stuck in that orphanage? Thirteen _years_ , Adora. And nobody came to rescue me. I had to make my _own_ way!”

“And you think I didn’t?” Adora shot back, clenching her hands into fists at her side when Catra tossed her head back and laughed humorlessly, wild, dark curls flying loose around her cheeks. “Mara’s been dead for six years, Catra! You’re not the only one who’s had a hard time!”

Behind Catra, her black horse was stomping and snorting, glaring at Adora like she had gravely offended it with her presence. Vaguely, she registered that there was something not entirely horse-like about it - its blue eyes were too sharp, and if she squinted, its mane seemed to shift colors like crow’s feathers: black, to blue, to red. 

“Melog,” Catra murmured, turning away from Adora to rest a soothing hand on the horse’s proudly arched neck. “ _Shh_.” When she turned back, her brows were furrowed, full lips pressed into a cold frown that looked very out of place on her sharp features. Catra wore white-hot anger well, but this sort of quiet fury was new, twisting Adora’s stomach into a thousand tiny knots.

“You know what? I don’t want your filthy money. I wasn’t here. Forget it.” 

Adora wasn’t sure what possessed her to reach out for Catra, but she caught her wrist just as she was reaching for the reins to mount up and disappear into the desert just as fast as she had come.

“Wait,” she managed, “ _stay._ ”

-

“She’s only allowed in here as long as you’re here, and because you’re vouching for her,” Glimmer huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down an all-too-smug Catra from the other end of the bar where she was wiping down a tin plate. Adora nodded once in understanding, shooting Catra an appropriately pleading look. _Please don’t do anything crazy._

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she gestured to a corner table, waiting for Catra to sit before she followed suit. Bow, sensing the awkwardness of this encounter, excused himself and pulled up a chair next to Adora, giving Catra a dazzling smile that only earned him a roll of slit-pupiled eyes.

“So...how exactly do you two know each other?” he asked, clearly attempting to diffuse the tension between Adora and Catra, who were staring at each other across the table like the other was going to strike at the first possible opportunity.

“Childhood,” mumbled Adora, feeling around for her cup without taking her eyes off Catra’s. When she found it, fingers closing around cool glass, it took her a few tries to bring it to her mouth, much to Catra’s amusement.

The other girl had made herself at home, tail draped casually over her own lap as she leaned back in the wooden chair at an angle that set Adora’s heart pounding, one boot propped up on the table. _You’re going to fall if you keep leaning back like that, sit up-_

“So, Adora,” she drawled, taking a long, slow sip of whatever was in her cup; she had ordered from Glimmer in a voice so low that Adora hadn’t been able to hear. “What brought you to this place? I mean honestly,” she traced the tip of one claw through the layer of dust on the table, eyeing Glimmer with a lazy smirk, “it’s _barely_ two steps from hell.”

“Probably the same thing that turned you into a bandit wanted by the law,” Adora huffed, setting her half-finished water down and crossing her arms over her chest. How was Catra so unfazed? How could she just sit there and watch Adora from under those stupidly long eyelashes, with that wickedly sinful smirk, and prod her until she snapped?

“Doubtful, _sweetheart_.” Catra arched a brow, swirling the liquid in her glass with her index finger and lapping it off just to watch Adora squirm and seethe. “What do you know about what I do? Maybe I do this because I _like_ it.”

Next to Adora, Bow’s eyes had gone wide, a mirror to Glimmer’s equally astonished gaze across the room. Now _this_ was unusual. Adora was usually so even-tempered and golden-hearted - it took far more than a little teasing to set her off. There was clearly something more here than Adora’s evasive answer of “childhood.”

“You wouldn’t,” growled Adora, and Catra threw her head back to expose her lightly furred throat to the dusty ceiling, laughing with that rough, rich sound that made Adora’s head spin, wiping away any logical argument that had been brewing. Bow’s perceptive gaze flickered between the two of them, and he reached out to Adora, resting a comforting palm over the trembling fist she had rested on her thigh, just out of Catra’s line of sight.

“Woah, woah, you two, let’s just calm down, nobody needs to-”

Not for the first time that day, the swinging doors to the saloon burst open, and in rushed a squat old lady with a mess of wild silver hair and glasses that made her eyes seem three times as big as they should have been. Bow opened his mouth to greet her, but she made a beeline for Adora, grabbing her bicep in a wrinkled hand

“Mara!” She gasped, ignoring Adora’s yelp of surprise as she pulled her to her feet. “Come, come quickly!”

“Mara…?” Asked Catra, and Glimmer shook her head, grabbing her knife and stuffing it in her boot before vaulting across the bar and flipping the sign in the window to read _CLOSED_.

“Everyone out! Shoo! We’re closed!” She yelled, shooing the crowds through the door before glancing back to Catra. “Razz can’t tell them apart,” she explained, eyes going narrow as she paused in the doorway. “Come on. I’m not leaving you here alone, you’re...well, _you_.”

“Fair enough.” Catra shot the last of her drink and slammed the wooden cup back down on the table, pulling her bandana back up to hide the lower half of her face. She took off after Glimmer and Bow, tracking Adora and Razz’s bootprints in the rusty red dust.

-

“Razz, what’s the matter?” Adora had finally managed to wrench her arm from Madam Razz’s vice-tight grip, trying desperately to keep pace with her erratic zig-zagging, even though she knew it was futile. Razz was _fast_ for a seemingly immortal old lady. (Adora had once asked Mara how old Razz was after seeing her in an old photo. Mara had given her one of those signature little smiles, shrugged, and told her something like “you should never ask about anyone’s age.” That had only served to pique Adora’s curiosity further, even though she had never figured anything out beyond “very old.”)

“It’s the water, the spring…” She babbled as Adora stumbled after her, Bow, Glimmer, and a very curious Catra hot on their heels. Their destination, a green spot on the horizon, was growing closer, but as Adora mopped sweat from her brow, she wished that she had thought to bring Swift Wind.

Bright Moon springs, an emerald patch of life in an otherwise brown and red landscape, was the primary source of water for the whole town, as well as for some of the neighboring farms and ranches. Its cold, clear water was the only thing that made life in the desert possible. Without it, the only source of water for miles was unreliable rain, or the bitter, sour water taken from some of the native cacti that often did more harm than good. 

After what felt like a marathon in the burning sun, they staggered into the shade of the oasis, where Glimmer sank to her knees to catch her breath, and Bow drank deeply from his canteen. A few steps behind them, Catra leaned against the shady side of a boulder, pulling her bandana down to breathe. Adora inhaled in the smell of water and listened to the soft hum of dragonflies skimming across the surface. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but Madam Razz was pointing to a hulking stone with the end of her broom, brows furrowed with determination.

“Razz, what…?” Adora knelt by the rock, reaching out to feel in the crevice where a steady, life-giving stream of water should have been gushing out. Her fingers came away slick with drying mud, and to her horror, there was no clear pool to wash them off in.

“It’s running dry,” she realized, wiping the mud on her jeans as she turned around to meet her friends’ wide eyes. “We don’t have any water.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo friends! 
> 
> This was written as a gift to a lovely friend and bright soul. Hope you enjoy this, El! 
> 
> This is a new fandom for me - I watched it all in like, three days two weeks ago, and this has kind of been floating in my head ever since. I wrote a sort of homage to my winter home in Winter City, so here's a piece inspired my summer home and all of its strange charms. The title is from a Fleetwood Mac song.
> 
> Catra's order was whole milk if anyone was wondering. Adora's paying, so she can indulge. Also, do NOT stick your hands in crevices, even when looking for water. Bad idea.
> 
> If you're here because you're wondering where the SSSS pieces I promised are, they're in the works! I've just had no motivation to do anything other than pine for places I am not and stare longingly out the window. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Your comments and kudos mean the world to me, and I hope you're all hanging in there!
> 
> xx.
> 
> Liv


	2. La Lechuza

Mornings in the desert dawned early and cool, a false beginning that belied the scorching heat of the coming day. Adora woke just as the sun was peeking over the red horizon, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes as she arched her whole body in a deep stretch. Movement was a sweet release after a night resting on her side with her arm dangling off the hard mattress.

A glance through her parted fingers revealed that the nest of scratchy wool blankets where Catra had taken up residence the night before was empty. She had picked the corner of the little shack farthest from Adora, where she had curled up and glared into the thick darkness with jewel-bright eyes until Adora had given up on watching her and dozed off. There was no use playing this little game when she had promised Bow and Glimmer that she would meet them at the library to do some research in the early morning before the sun made it too unbearable to do anything.

Clearly, Catra had taken advantage of Adora’s apparent exhaustion and fled into the cool dawn without so much as a goodbye. _Typical_ , thought Adora as she threw her hair up into a ponytail and jammed her hat on over it. She could only hope that Catra wasn’t already halfway to the northern border as she yanked on her boots and reached for a red long-sleeved shirt that she hoped was clean. (Though she supposed it didn’t much matter: nothing ever stayed clean for long on work days.)

“Catra?” Adora called into the brisk morning air, following the clinking sound of tack to the stable. _Maybe she wasn’t too late after all_. 

In the shade of the barn, Catra had saddled Melog up, and was filling her spare waterskins from a spigot poking up from the dry ground. Water ran over her hands, soaking the sleeves of her plaid shirt and turning the leather of her boots dark brown where it dripped from her fingers.

“You don’t want to drink from that, it’s always full of dirt,” Adora warned her, resting her weight against the door to Swift Wind’s stall and cocking her leg back so that the sole of her boot was flat against the worn wood. Full saddle bags, water to spare...this was not the gear for a quick morning ride.

In response, Catra pressed one eye to the opening of the waterskin to examine the particles floating in the water and shrugged her ambivalence before screwing the metal cap back on with deft fingers and lashing it across the back of the worn saddle with a length of rough rope.

“It’s not like you people have water to spare,” she pointed out, drying her hands on her jeans and tugging at the crimson bandana tied around her neck to give herself more room to breathe.

“You’re leaving? But you just got here.” Adora forced the words past the unusual grittiness clogging her throat. _Dirt_ , she told herself. _Just dirt._ It had nothing to do with the sudden appearance of her old friend, or her equally sudden decision to leave. _Of course she’s leaving. Why did I think she’d want to stay?_

“And I wasn’t supposed to be here as long as I have.” Catra’s pretty eyes went narrow, and her lips twisting into a tight snarl that told Adora to prepare for a fight. “What, princess? You don’t like being left? At least _I_ was going to say goodbye.”

“How long are you going to hold this over my head? I didn’t have the _chance_ to tell you goodbye!” Adora snapped, stepping forward from her spot against the stall to confront Catra. Behind the door, Swift Wind pranced and whinnied, agitated by his rider’s distress. “I begged Mara to let you come too. I told her I didn’t want to go unless you were going with me.”

“But you did!” Catra choked out, claws biting into the calloused pads of her palms when she clenched her fists. “You left anyway, Adora, and you didn’t ever come back! You left me there, with that _bitch_ Madam Weaver and...and _nothing_ else!” Her voice broke on the penultimate word, and she prayed to every god that might have been listening that Adora wouldn’t notice. “You promised we’d be together come hell or high water, and you went back on your word! So don’t you _dare_ get on me about leaving!”

“I did come back for you!” In her desperation, Adora reached out to brush Catra’s shoulder with her fingertips, wincing when her old friend flinched away as though her touch was as wicked and toxic as a snake strike. “After Mara died, I went back to get you. Midwinter, six years ago, when we had that really bad blizzard. You weren’t there, Catra. I searched _everywhere_ for you, I went all the way to the border, then to the ports, and then _back_ again. I thought...I thought you were...that you might be...” The words stuck in her throat like tar, and she swallowed hard, crossing her arms and squaring her shoulders in hopes that Catra would not catch sight of the way her hands were shaking.

Now _that_ was unexpected. Catra had fabricated a story in her mind that wasn’t making sense now that Adora was in front of her, beautiful and sweet and stupid as ever, with tears that Catra was trying not to notice shining in the corners of her eyes. Adora had left - that wasn’t a fact that either of them could change, as much as they wished they could. But the _circumstances_ of her leaving… That could change a lot. Catra was still pissed - seeing Adora had opened wounds that she had thought had long scarred over - but now she wasn’t quite sure about the white-hot _rage_ that she had been nursing since noon the day before. It seemed too drastic for the story that she knew now.

“I left when I was sixteen,” Catra muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and drawing in on herself. “Stole a horse and some money, and ran. I went where nobody could ever find me.” Gold and blue eyes flashed as she finally looked back to Adora, dark ears pinned back against her wild hair. “Not even you.”

Adora was quiet for a long moment, tracing the toe of her boot in the dust and tufts of dry grass beneath their feet. 

“But you’re here now,” she pointed out, choosing her words carefully. “You could…” She swallowed, chewing her bottom lip, “You could stay. Madam Razz could always use the help.” _And I missed you. I still miss you._

Catra’s resounding bark of laughter stung sharp and hot, like the red ants that came out after rare rainstorms. Adora couldn’t help the way her cheeks flushed with humiliation. _She’s right. It’s a stupid suggestion, why would she ever want to follow you? What can you give her? All you’ve done is cause her pain._

“Don’t you get it, dummy? I _can’t_ stay.” She reached into the leather pouch on her waist, coming up with the folded wanted poster she had torn off the wall of the sheriff’s office the day before . "Look." With a single sharp flick of her wrist, she extended it to Adora, who unfolded it with careful fingers, trying not to tear the weathered paper.

WANTED, read the poster in glaring capital letters, DEAD OR ALIVE. Below those words was a picture of Catra, her likeness rendered in stark black and white. Her signature red bandana was tied across her nose and mouth, but her head was free of a hat, showcasing her tangled curls and perked ears. THE CRIMSON BANDIT. $500 REWARD.

 _$500_. So that’s how much her old friend’s life was worth. Adora swallowed past the bile rising in her throat, folding the wanted poster back up and slipping it into her pocket for safekeeping. Asking the next thing on her mind was going to be difficult, but wholly necessary to determine the amount of danger Catra was really in.

“What’ll they do if they catch you?” She managed, forcing herself to hold Catra’s steady gaze.

Catra grimaced, reaching up to touch her own throat with the razor tip of one clawed fingertip. Adora blanched. 

“‘S not something you’d want to see,” she shrugged, rubbing at her throat as though already feeling the cruel bite of a rope. 

“No,” Adora gasped, “no, they wouldn’t, they can’t, they-”

“They would, they can, and they will,” countered Catra with an air of lazy boredom that Adora knew was a farce: the tip of Catra’s tail was twitching like it always did when she was anxious. “I’ve done bad things. See why I can’t stay here, princess? I’ve got to split.”

“No. You don’t have to.” This time, Adora remembered not to reach out, though she wanted nothing more than to rest both palms on Catra’s shoulders and feel her living warmth through her the cloth of her shirt and the leather of her vest. Instead, she dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans, meeting Catra’s snarl with a lifted chin and a defiant gleam in crystal blue eyes. 

“You’re dumber than I thought,” muttered Catra, placing her left foot in the stirrup and winding one hand into Melog’s strange kaleidoscope mane to use as leverage when she swung up into the saddle. From her perch, she stared down at Adora, pulling her bandana up to cover her nose and mouth. Even without a visual on her lips, Adora could read her scowl written in the shadows across her eyes and in the rising of her cheeks. “Weren’t you listening? If I stay, they’ll find me, and they’ll kill me. Simple as that, Adora.” 

“Listen to me.” Adora’s voice was no longer a plea. She stepped in front of Melog, resting a confident hand on the horse’s broad chest to keep Catra from urging them forward. Melog snorted, staring at Adora with one clear blue eye before resting their chin over her shoulder and letting her stroke the dark fur on their proud neck. Catra swallowed her surprise: Melog was nothing if not an extraordinarily stubborn and picky companion, but here they were, cozying up to her old friend. _This town is so weird._

“If you stay and help us figure out what’s wrong with the water,” Adora began, never ceasing her soothing petting of Melog’s neck, “Bright Moon will trust you. They’ll give you refuge here, and you won’t have to run anymore. And...” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, suddenly unable to meet Catra’s gaze. “And when I leave, you won’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

“That’s-” Catra paused, winding the thick leather reins a little tighter in her gloved hands. _Stupid. Crazy. Never going to work._ “That’s the only plan you’ve got? Fix the water and hope your crazy little town thinks enough of both of us to shelter a known fugitive?”

“Do you have a better one?” Adora stepped back from Melog, one brow arched, and a tentative smile curving up her lips when Catra grumbled a barely-audible “no.” 

“So you’ll stay?”

“Fine.” With graceful ease, Catra dismounted and reached for the bags she had tied to the back of her saddle. Throwing them over her shoulder, she shot Adora a look from under the brim of her hat, calculating and cautious. “We solve the water problem, but if this goes wrong, I’m leaving, and you won’t try to stop me. Got it?”

“Got it!” Adora fumbled with the knots Catra had used to tie the waterskins to the saddle, trying to tamp down the giddiness rising in her like an eagle on an updraft. Catra was staying. She was really staying in Bright Moon with Adora, even if it was only a temporary arrangement. _I’m dreaming,_ she told herself, helping Catra put the last of her bags away in the little shack Adora called home. The bite of her own nails into the soft skin of her inner wrist told her otherwise.

But she couldn’t count her blessings yet. Not when they were still so far from being in the clear.

-

Bow was waiting for them on the porch of the library, back pressed against one of the large front-facing windows. In one hand, he clutched a sheaf of paper smeared with dark lead, and in the other, a stub of a wooden pencil topped with a gummy pink eraser. Glimmer was resting against him on the bench, her head cradled comfortably on his shoulder as they watched the little town come to life in the golden light of morning.

If Bow was surprised to see both Adora and Catra instead of just Adora, he didn’t let it on, but when Glimmer lifted her head and noticed Catra tying Melog to the hitching post next to Swift Wind, her eyes went narrow. 

“What,” she asked, lifting her head and getting to her feet to stare Catra down, “is she doing here? I thought she was quitting town!”

“Catra’s going to help us figure out what’s wrong with the water,” Adora informed her, trying very hard not to shiver under the searing gazes of her friend and her ex-friend. _Yeah, I should have expected this._ “We can use all the help we can get.”

“So we’re just going to let a known outlaw help us with our research?” Glimmer threw her hands up as they followed an increasingly frazzled-looking Bow into the welcome coolness of the library. “What’s next, bringing a rattlesnake to dinner?”

“Wow,” Catra mused from over Adora’s shoulder, “I don’t think Sparkles likes me very much.”

“It’s Glimmer!” Snapped Glimmer, and before the two of them could get into it even further, Bow plopped a thick book onto the window-side table he had led them to, sending up a cloud of dust that set all four of them coughing and hacking as they took their seats.

“So,” he managed, clearing his throat, “I made a list of all the things that could have caused this, and ran through the books to prove or disprove them last night.” 

With great care, he spread the papers out, pointing to the first one, where he had written several sentences in his neat, slanting handwriting. Adora leaned in, tracing one reverent finger over the diagram he had drawn below his words, a crease forming between her brows as she tried to parse out what it was supposed to be.

“Wow,” she murmured in awe, “you were thorough.”

“My dads helped me locate the record books,” he explained as Adora wiped the pencil lead that had come away on her finger onto her jeans and leaned back in her chair, “And it’s really not possible for the spring to run dry. The aquifer below us has enough water to supply us indefinitely. The survey says it’s 25 million acre-feet at the very least!”

At Glimmer, Adora, and Catra’s blank gazes, Bow pointed at the drawing again, clearly having anticipated this response. 

“Here, I drew a map. The shaded part is the aquifer.”

“Oh,” Adora whispered, watching all of the tangled lines of the diagram suddenly arrange themselves into something reasonable and legible, “So it’s huge. Bright Moon couldn’t have possibly drained it dry.”

“Exactly!” He flipped the paper to the other side, pointing to the header. Bold, careful letters spelled out a new theory: _diversion_. 

“The next plausible explanation is that someone’s diverting the water somewhere else, but we all went to the spring, and there wasn’t any indication that someone’s been taking water. No aqueducts, mining equipment, or even buckets. Not that that would be very effective...” Bow paused, looking to each of them in turn as if to question if they had seen something and kept it quiet. When nobody responded, he concluded, “It can’t be that either.”

“Could mud or a rockslide have clogged up the place where the spring runs out of the ground?” Asked Adora, and Bow shook his head, chewing on the end of his pencil in thought.

“Maybe, but you would have figured that out yesterday when you stuck your hand in that rockpile to figure out where the water went,” he reasoned, “and there hasn’t been enough rain lately to cause a rockslide.”

“What if,” Glimmer began, tracing a short finger across the worn edges of the book that Bow had thrown onto the table, “none of these make sense because the origin of the problem isn’t _natural._ Maybe it’s magic!”

“Wait.” Catra was the first to break the silence that followed Glimmer’s suggestion, standing up so suddenly that her chair tipped backwards and Adora had to lunge out of her own seat to make sure it wouldn’t clatter onto the floor. “Has there been anything...I don’t know, _weird,_ going on here lately?”

“Um, nothing that I can think of?” Bow was staring across the table at her like she had gone completely crazy, thick brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Catra threw her hands up, tail lashing in agitation behind her. “Anything! Weird noises, shadows, things going missing when they shouldn’t. _Think!_ ”

“Actually, I’ve been hearing some whistling every night for a few weeks when I’m closing up shop,” Glimmer offered, pursing her full lips and glancing up to the ceiling as she remembered. “It starts at midnight exactly, and stops a few minutes later, but it sounds very far away… I’ve been writing it off as the wind.”

Catra’s face went pale, tail slowing and becoming bottle-brush fluffy. _That’s not a good sign_ , thought Adora. Maybe bringing her into this had been a bad idea after all.

“Anything else?” She prompted, digging her sharp claws into the wooden tabletop and leaning forward as though this was a war room, and the strategy they were coming up with was life and death. It might as well have been: without Bright Moon springs, there would be no Bright Moon.

“Oh!” Bow lit up, resting his palms flat on the table, fingers splayed wide. “I don’t know if this counts, but I’ve been seeing this owl every night sitting on the fence post near Melissa’s place. It started showing up about three weeks ago, I think? It looks huge, but I don’t know, maybe it’s just a really big owl?”

“Three weeks ago? That’s when the whistling started!” Crowed Glimmer, clearly pleased that they were beginning to make headway.

Catra turned her multicolored eyes on Adora, ears pinned and teeth bared. Her tail was still bristled, and her claws were out, sharp and gleaming in the light streaming in from the window next to them.

“I know who’s causing this,” she hissed, “and I cannot _believe_ you made me stay to deal with it.”

“What is it?” Bow asked eagerly as Catra reached for a piece of paper and snatched his pencil from his hand, scribbling furiously for a minute, before pushing the drawing to the middle of the table, where Adora, Bow, and Glimmer crowded in to see.

Catra had drawn an owl, great wings spread and oozing with darkness. Where its head should have been was a human face, hollow-eyed and open-mouthed. The grotesqueness made Bow wince, and Glimmer reached out to touch the underlined words Catra had written in her straight, dark capital letters at the top of the paper: LA LECHUZA.

“But La Lechuza isn’t real,” Adora protested, looking up from the drawing and searching Catra’s face for any indication that she might have been joking; there was none. Catra’s eyes were dead serious, and if Adora hadn’t known better, she would have said that there was a flicker of fear behind them. “She’s just a story adults tell to scare children, right?”

“She’s real, princess,” muttered Catra, “and apparently she’s got a bone to pick with Bright Moon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised someone I'd have the second chapter out before the weekend was over, so here you go! The Tejano folklore shows up at last, and Catra proves herself surprisingly proficient.
> 
> There's not a whole lot of lore about La Lechuza (and the lore that exists is SUPER regional) so I'll be taking some liberties with her in this story. Legend does have it that she announces her presence by whistling late at night, much like another feature of lore around here, El Silbón. Now THAT is a creepy story! The farther away the whistling sounds, the closer they are.
> 
> Thank you all for your sweet comments and kudos on this! Stuff like that really keeps me writing. Next chapter will focus more on Catra and Adora, and their unkind pasts. Until then, friends!
> 
> xx.
> 
> Liv
> 
> Edit: some of my friends found this account. Hi guys! I miss you all very much! Enjoy the words!


	3. Cat(ra) on a Hot Tin Roof

The worn wood floor of the library creaked under the heels of Catra’s boots as she paced back and forth, palms jammed deep into her pockets. Gleaming, too-sharp teeth worried at her lower lip, and Adora had to bite her tongue to keep from telling Catra that she was going to draw blood if she kept doing that.

“So, ah, what exactly is this _thing_ that’s haunting us?” Bow asked, half mesmerized by Catra’s rhythmic steps, and half horrified at the drawing still laying on the table.

“La Lechuza, the owl-witch,” repeated Catra, brows furrowing as she walked the length of the same five planks over and over. “She’s a shapeshifter. A woman during the day, and a giant weird owl-lady at night.”

Bow balked, staring down at the hollow graphite eyes of the drawing again before pushing it towards Glimmer, who winced and flipped it over so she didn’t have to stare at it any longer.

“Well that’s creepy,” he decided.

“Hah!” Catra’s resounding bark of laughter was dry and hoarse, completely devoid of any actual humor. “Creepy isn’t the half of it. You can’t shoot her. You can’t stab her. The only way to kill her is to slit her ugly throat with a knife made from volcanic glass or something.”

“So why is she messing with Bright Moon?” Glimmer managed around the worry clotting her throat. Beneath the table, Bow took her hand, skimming his thumb across her knuckles until her breathing evened out again. “We didn’t do anything!”

“I don’t know! Usually it’s because someone insulted her, and she’s out to kill but sometimes…” The following inhale was quick and sharp, and Catra nearly missed a step in her pacing. She managed to correct herself before anyone but Adora could tell that she had faltered, continuing with her explanation, “Sometimes she’s just an omen.”

“You’ve seen her before,” Adora realized, and Catra went still, eyes going narrow.

“And? What’s it to you, _Adora_?” Catra drew out her name as though trying to savor the taste of the letters on her tongue, the shape of the word on her lips. Her tone was anything but sweet, dripping from her mouth like sour blood, but Adora stood firm, rising from her chair to rest her palms on the table and stare her old friend down across the room.

“Catra. This is serious. We don’t have much time until the water runs out. So have you seen her or not?”

Taken aback by the sharp command in Adora’s voice, Catra looked away, fixing her eyes on the steadily rising sun out the window. In a futile attempt to draw inward, she wrapped her arms across her chest and folded over, away from the painful memories turning her heart to a lump of lead.

“I did see her. Once. A long time ago. She’s...a sign of change. Really big change.”

Adora’s whole stomach lurched, and she gripped the table just a little tighter. _Please don’t mean what I think you mean._ “When...when exactly did you see her?”

“That’s not important!” Catra snapped, and Adora recoiled at her tone, sinking back into her chair in defeat. 

“Fine,” she conceded, pretending not to notice Bow and Glimmer’s concerned glances in her direction when Catra turned to look out the front-facing window again, ears pinned against her wild hair in defensive irritation. “I should get going anyway. Razz wants me to ride out to the northeast corner and mend the fence, the coyotes are getting through…” She trailed off before she could elaborate further, sapphire eyes still trained on Catra’s tense silhouette. “See you guys later.”

Bow and Glimmer’s choruses of goodbyes rang after her as she stepped outside into the already uncomfortably warm day, pulling her hat low on her brow to shade her face as she swung up into Swift Wind’s saddle and clicked her tongue. Her steed snorted his excitement, bright hooves stirring clouds of dirt into the air as Adora guided him through town center, and then urged him into a full gallop once they were free of the streets. Behind her, in the big, wide windows of the library, Catra watched, claws digging into the wooden sill until there were ten tiny pin pricks when she pulled away. 

Oh, this was _not fair._

* * *

Adora returned as the sun was sinking low over the hazy horizon, washing the world in jewel-bright shades of crimson and amber. Mending the hole in the fence had taken the better part of the day, and then she and Swift Wind had had to run after an escaped cow that was either too stupid or too stubborn to go willingly back into the pasture. It had been a long and rather annoying day, and all she could think about was a nice shower and a hearty meal from Madam Razz before sinking into bed and falling asleep in three seconds flat.

Upon reaching the shack, she was expecting to see a note from Razz on her door telling her to go grab some wild onions or an extra handful of berries for her famous pies. She was _not_ expecting the lively sound of fiddle, or the graceful and unmistakable silhouette of Catra standing on her corrugated tin roof with a violin tucked in the crook of her neck and her bow flickering across the strings. 

Adora suddenly felt as though she had gone a whole week without water, and she forced herself to swallow through the dryness in her mouth. Catra’s eyes were closed, and her hair floated wildly about her shoulders like a dust storm sweeping in from the east. The rich caramel color of her softly furred skin was highlighted by the golden light of the dying sun, and she swayed with her music, blissfully unaware of her audience. The sight was captivating: she couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to.

It seemed wrong to interrupt her, so Adora waited in awestruck silence until Catra finally went still, lowering her fiddle and opening her eyes. When they fell on Adora, her serene expression twisted immediately into one of shock, and she yelped, stumbling back and pointing her bow at her accusitorially.

“How long have you been standing there?” She snapped, cheeks flushing pink under the full force of her surprise and embarrassment.

“Just a few minutes, I swear!” Adora lifted her empty palms defensively, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.” A pause, awkward and tense. “It was good music.”

Grumbling, Catra looked to the side, trying not to let her blush grow any darker. 

“Thanks.”

“Oh! You’re welcome!” She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly too sheepish to hold Catra’s intense gaze any longer. “How’d you get up there?” From where Adora was standing, there was no sign of claw marks indicating a scramble up the side of the building, and she couldn’t see a ladder.

“I jumped.” At her dumbfounded stare, Catra rolled her eyes, setting her fiddle aside and pointing a clawed finger to the rickety old ladder resting against the back side of the shack, just out of Adora’s line of sight. “That was in the barn.”

“Why were you in the barn?” Carefully, Adora wrapped her hands around the worn rungs of the ladder and began to climb. Catra moved aside to make room for her and she sighed gratefully, plopping into the empty spot next to her and breathing in the rapidly cooling night air.

“I had nothing else to do,” shrugged Catra. “What, afraid I’m going to discover all your secrets?”

“No!” When Adora laughed, Catra’s heart fluttered like a desperate sparrow behind her ribs, and she wanted to reach behind her ribs and grab it to make it quiet. “You know I’ve never had any real secrets.”

Ah. There it was. Even with that strange, uncomfortably euphoric new thing fluttering in her chest, the bitterness in the back of her throat remained, caustic and unwelcome.

“Except that you’ve got a sister and a home that wants you this whole time.”

As if she’d been slapped, Adora sucked in her breath, pressing her lips together until they were white with the pressure. “Half-sister. Mara’s dead, Catra, and I didn’t know she existed until she came to get me.”

Silence settled into the space between them, too tense for comfort as they tried to swallow their mutual guilt. As usual, Adora was the one to extend the olive branch, her voice surprisingly small in the dim dregs of the day. 

“I didn’t know you could fiddle.”

Catra plucked at the strings of her instrument, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

More silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Catra could see the gears turning as Adora tried to formulate the next right thing to say. 

Instead of small talk or pointless pleasantries, she turned to look at Catra in the eyes, trying (and failing) to hide the apprehension shining in her own.

_Hah. Nice try, princess. You’re easier to read than a kid’s book._

“What happened to everyone? After I left, I mean.”

Catra hesitated, tracing the tip of one claw in the fine layer of dust that had accumulated on the roof. This was a sore subject, but Adora was looking at her with those wide, unguarded eyes, betraying all of her hope and worry and longing, and Catra couldn’t do anything but start talking.

“Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio made a pact,” she began, still tracing a filigree of swirls into the dust. “They left together and went north when they turned 18. They...used to write to me.” 

“What did they say?” Adora prompted, and Catra pressed her lips together until she could feel the bite of her teeth on the tender skin of the insider of her mouth, and continued.

“Not much. They have a good life now. A place together. Enough money not to worry about food. I never asked how they got it.” Despite herself, she chuckled, shaking her head. “After you left, we learned that Rogelio’s a really good singer. Lonnie kept trying to get him in front of a crowd, but he was too shy.”

Adora’s laugh was balm to Catra’s aching heart, and she shook her head, pushing a strand of loose blonde hair back from her forehead. “Really? Maybe he finally got the courage and that’s where they got it.”

Catra snorted, laying back on the roof and resting her head in the folded cradle of her arms. “Can you imagine that? They would be the weirdest musical act in all of Etheria.”

That mental image only served to launch Adora into further hysterics. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head as her shoulders quivered with laughter. 

“That,” she giggled, looking up and matching Catra’s amused grin. “Would be a sight. I’d go see them.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Rogelio’s good. I’d go too. But can you imagine Kyle on backup? And Lonnie on that old broken guitar she found by the old stock tank and wouldn’t throw away?”

“You mean the guitar that had two strings and smelled like pond water?” Adora asked, trying to keep herself together long enough for Catra’s answer. “That guitar?”

“That’s the one!”

The two of them dissolved into giggles again, sprawling out under the star-speckled sky. Catra’s heart was lighter than it had been in ages; she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed with such genuine mirth.

 _This is golden_ , she thought, and despite herself, that warm, soft _something_ in her chest only grew.

Adora sighed the last of her laughter into the night, wiping the tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “Ah, that’s classic. What about...What about Ms Weaver? Is she still there?” 

_Nothing gold can stay._

This was clearly the exact _wrong_ thing to say, because just as quickly as Catra had opened up, she shut down again, shoulders becoming stiff and eyes narrowing to slits as she sat up and folded in on herself as if to recoil from a hand that wasn’t there to strike, and words that were not there to sting.

“Of course you’d ask about her. She was shitty as ever, right up until the day I busted out, but what would you know about that? You were always her _favorite_.”

“Catra-” Adora reached for her hand as she slid back down the ladder, as fluid and sure in her movements as water trickling down a rock face. Catra danced away from her touch, turning away from her pleading gaze and trying to ignore the contradictory ache and glow making their homes in the hollow of her chest.

“ _Goodnight_ , Adora.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> I'm back in Canada and out of quarantine! The weather is cooling off, and our apartment is beginning to actually look like a nice space instead of a train wreck. Phew!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long, and since classes begin tomorrow, I have no idea when I'll be able to get the next one out. Could be next week. Could be October. Could be next year. Who knows! Not me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and that you're all safe and well. Your comments and kudos are so appreciated!
> 
> xx.
> 
> Liv


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